Supposed Crime
by fourandtwenty
Summary: A relationship so secret that only two people know of it comes to an abrupt end, but it isn't really the end--it's only the beginning. A Snape/Hermione romance in which boundaries are both ignored and overstepped all in the name of lies and love.
1. Game of Life

**Supposed Crime**  
  
A Snape/Hermione romance that hopefully won't be too stereotypical. We'll get into the good stuff a few chapters in, and this story is one where when the good stuff comes, it doesn't stop. There will be an R rating later on, along with a few controversial things, so hopefully you're all prepared.  
Aimée  
  
  
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In the scheme of things, one single life does not mean what we all assume it does mean. It is how that particular life touches those around it, how the life changes the world around it that matters. To the Universe, there is no good and evil—there just Is. One of the notions planted into the human mind from the very first moment he or she comes into an understanding of the world is that there is indeed a general good and evil is something I have proved wrong countless times over the years I have had the misfortune of experiencing.  
  
I have lived a lie for so long that to me, it is no longer a lie but the single solitary truth in my life. It is a cursed life, but at the same time it is mine. For years, my life was made up solely of the lie, making it the truth within my own personal universe. Three and a half decades after my birth, however, I discovered that there is in fact a greater truth and life out there—and for nearly a year, it was mine for the taking.  
  
  
  
She came to me shortly after her seventeenth birthday. Even after I gained her trust, she always insisted it was never her intention for things to turn out the way they did. I was never able to place any faith in her words, but I allowed her to believe I did. It was simply another lie added onto the heap of others that defined who I believed myself to be, and I felt no remorse for my simplistic betrayal of her trust.  
  
I won't bore you with the details of how she and I came to become a we, as they are of no importance in the scheme of things. It is how we are—how we were in the beginning and how we were in the end. It was the deepest of secrets hidden within the walls of Hogwarts, and not a soul knew besides the two of us. Not only was she half my age, but she was a student as well—one who was destined for great things I could have never provided her. It was that stigma which we bore, but we had each other to both lean on and support in a never-ending battle between what we knew—or thought—to be evil, yet we both agreed something as wonderful as us could never be considered anything but heaven-worthy.  
  
She was not the first I had loved, but she was the last. One of the most common misconceptions of those who now know about the two of us is that I was desperately lonely, but that wasn't true. I had the students who surrounded me each day, the teachers I knew I could depend on even if I would never in a thousand eons admit their importance, and a man who believed in me even when in my youth no one else would—not even myself. I secluded myself from the others not because of disdain, but because of my acute need to make sure I would not hurt anyone else. The lie I lived, the role I played for what could have easily been my entire life was something that I needed to protect from others. The game I was playing was far too complex to add in new pieces and rules, but when that game was finally finished with the abolition of the Death Eaters—those loyal to Voldemort, anyway—and the destruction of their Master, I was free to discard the old rules and make up ones I was willing to play by, for the first time in my life.  
  
Needless to say, she was the first rule I added; I did not seduce her, nor did she seduce me—rather it was a joint effort, one we were and hopefully still are willing to admit to, albeit in the privacy of our aloneness while we were together, something that I'm sure will never happen again.  
  
For her seventh and final year at Hogwarts, she and I spent every possible moment together. She was what some would consider a sort of apprentice to me, although we never degraded her role with a title. It was how we got around the scorn of others—they simply did not know. No one knew, not even her best friends or Albus Dumbledore, a man I had sworn to never keep a secret from. The rules had changed, however, and that one was one of the first to go.  
  
Even to this day I cannot admit how much I loved her to anyone but her. The lies I had grown so accustomed to living had prevented me from ever comfortably telling the truth, which was something I have never been proud of. Over the years, I have been able to twist and turn the truth around until it does in fact fit the lie—or perhaps it was the other way around?—and in turn, I was able to spare myself some of the grief I would have otherwise experienced.  
  
It was on the night of the winter solstice when she first came to me fully prepared to overstep the boundaries we had set early on in our relationship. At first I objected, but it was futile; she was aware of how much I had craved her from the moment we had first kissed, and she used that weakness against me. The next morning, for the first time in eighteen years, I awoke with a woman—for that was what she was now—asleep next to me, her pale skin flushed and a smile placed upon her lips as she slept. She was my salvation, the angel I was sure was made just for that moment of perfection. I didn't know if she was made for me—I would have never asked for anything as precious as her, nor would I be as vain to assume I was the thing she lived for—but that night, I knew she was mine just as I was hers.  
  
Unfortunately, I was not aware of the sword of destruction that would soon penetrate the perfection we had emerged ourselves into. It was a swift move in the game I had played my entire life, one I was not able to foresee.  
  
It was the move which defined my life.  
  



	2. Now Or Never

** Supposed Crime, Chapter Two**  
  
New chapter... today's the worst day out of the year, so I'm sorry if it's a bit on the crappy side.   
Aimée  
  
  
---  
  
  
It was the middle of June when I awoke for what was to be the last time for an indefinite amount of months with Hermione tucked comfortably under my arm, her soft hair fanned out over my bare chest. We had spent every night for over two weeks together in one last desperate attempt to produce the perfect memory of our illegal relationship. There were many memories, of course, but none we as perfect as the ones that took place during the often cold, damp nights of late winter and spring.   
It was her last day at Hogwarts, one which filled us both with a mixture of exhilaration and dread. I knew the time would come when we would no longer be able to sneak off during the nights or exchange secretive looks with one another across the halls and classrooms, but nothing could have prepared me for the sense of absolute loneliness that already began to fill me, even as she lay right next to me, breathing softly and steadily.  
  
"Severus?" I was brought back to reality when the sound of her voice filled my ears, making the loneliness I had felt so acutely a moment before completely vanish.   
  
"Good morning," I spoke softly, running one hand gently through her messy hair. "Sleep well?"  
She gazed up at me with her liquid brown eyes, an impish smile playing across her lips. "When I'm with you, I never sleep well. We're too busy doing other things, remember?"  
  
I grinned in spite of myself, running my hand down the side of her naked body. "Of course I remember—it's hard to forget, really."  
  
This was how our typical morning conversation went, as neither of us had our wits completely cleared from the little sleep we had inflicted upon ourselves. The banter and often dirty words came later in the day and almost always during the nights when we both felt compelled to try and outwit the other, or to simply make the other cringe and laugh so much that words would simply not spill from their lips. Our relationship was a constant contest, both of us striving to make the most of the time we had together, to try and somehow outdo the other. It was a friendly—or even sexual—contest, of course. Rarely had we ever fought, and even during those bleak days, she would still come to me at night and whisper words of apology, knowing I could never return her humility, but the words didn't have to be spoken between us; she knew when I was sorry and she knew exactly how much I loved her—or perhaps she didn't, considering the way things eventually turned out.  
  
That morning was the moment I realized I was in a do-or-die situation. I loved her more than I had any other human being, despite our difference in age, and I was fairly certain she returned my feelings. I was adamant on not letting her go, and I was willing to do anything and everything in my power to keep her with me—even if it meant doing what I was about to do.  
  
"You seem distracted," she murmured, her thick voice washing over me causing a wave of indescribable emotions to flood through me.  
  
"I am," I admitted carefully, my eyes somewhat distant and my fingers still running over her body. "What are you going to do tomorrow, after you get home?" It may have seemed like a question designed to distract her from her own, but I can assure you it was quite the opposite.  
  
She shrugged as best she could lying vertically, stretching her legs out to the very edge of my bed. "I don't know what I'm going to do," she said honestly. "There are so many possibilities—did you know the Ministry offered me a job in three different positions?"  
  
"Yes, love," I told her gently. "You mentioned it last night, I believe."  
  
"Did I?" she mused, her fingers running lightly over my chest. "I really wouldn't remember now, would I? I'm not all too sure of what I'm going to do, and the possibility of me leaving this place without having a future in store scares me, to be honest."  
  
This was exactly the sort of opening I had been looking for.  
  
"What would you like to do in the future?" I asked carefully as not to arouse any suspicion. "Where do you plan on going after you leave your parents' home?"  
  
"I'm not sure," she repeated. "Probably to Hogsmeade or London—they're really the only two places I feel comfortable, besides Hogwarts of course," she smiled the impish smile that so often shattered me into pieces. "Are you going to continue teaching, after…?"  
  
Her unspoken question was gratefully left so as she raised her hand to trace an intricate pattern on the soft flesh of my inner left forearm. My first instinct was to flinch, but with a start I realized those days were over—no longer would Voldemort use the dreadful tattoo burned into my flesh to call me to him. It was a curse that I often wanted to simply cut off of my arm, but I knew it wasn't possible. However, that mark saved countless lives, as Headmaster Dumbledore pointed out many times before, and while it was an evil badge, it was also a badge of honor—a badge of a true survivor.  
  
"For the time being, yes," I answered her quietly, my eyes locked on her fingers as they brushed against my arm. "Perhaps in another year or two I will have the courage to leave this place, but for now…" I allowed my voice to trail off, knowing she knew what I had intended to say.  
  
"You have to start to live someday," she said gently, and I knew she meant no humor or insult with her words. "He's gone—that's all that matters. Everyone knows who you are and what you did for our side, no one's going to scorn you. You're as famous as—"  
  
"Harry Potter, I know," I said in an unemotional tone. The boy and I had had problems before, but with the threat of Him looming over us, we had managed to set aside our mutual hatred for one another and help defeat Him once and for all. It was rather cliché, really, the once-villain and the tragic hero fighting side-by-side to defeat the one great Evil in the world. I knew there was no such thing as pure evil however, no matter how many innocent victims He had killed.  
  
"He's a good guy," she spoke almost regretfully. "I just wish you two would make an attempt to get along."  
  
"Not everyone is meant to be the best of friends," I told her, kissing her forehead gently. "What you, Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley had was a rare thing indeed."  
  
"It was something Harry and I will never be able to have again," she sighed, curling up once again to my side. "I miss him."  
I knew she didn't speak of Mr. Potter, who was in fact still within the very walls of Hogwarts, rather of Ron Weasley, who had unfortunately perished in the Last Battle. He had been the sacrifice of the Light, just as Lucius Malfoy had been the sacrifice of the Dark. Light and Dark were not the same as Good and Evil, rather Light and Dark were simply the opposite of the same thing, just as black and white were opposite shades.  
  
"I know, love," I whispered, kissing her temple. "Believe it or not, so do I."  
  
All was quiet for an indefinite amount of time as we both relived the horrifying memories of the past two years. Each students' death was firmly ingrained within my mind as I had been present for most, and each tortured child, each innocent victim crying out was to be forever locked inside my memory, never to be released. As it was my most triumphant hour, it was also an hour of tears for so many parents, family members, and friends of the victims. Even those who had never came in contact with the Hogwarts students wept, not just for the loss of such fine children but for the destruction of something the sane held sacred; innocence.   
  
"I love you," she whispered quite suddenly, throwing me slightly off guard. I quickly regained my composure and squeezed her should comforting, wishing somehow that the moment could have lasted forever.  
  
"I love you as well," I said softly, staring straight ahead.  
  
It was now or never.  
  
Taking in a deep breath, I turned over and took a small item to my left off of the table sitting next to my large canopy bed, finally turning back towards her and looking at her with absolute adoration in my mind, body, and soul.  
  
"Hermione, will you marry me?"  
  
  
  
  
  
---  
  
  
  
**Gabriele: **Well, I could tell you where he's writing from, but that'd ruin some things I suppose. All I can tell you is that he is not writing from the end of the story... as in, where he is at the end isn't where he's writing his little spiel.   
  
**Gethsemane: **I've never really watched any of the X-Files episodes. Did it sound Mulder-ish? I'm sorry.  
**  
****Grammar Queen:** I'm glad you liked it! Yeah, there'll be enough angst to go around, but hopefully there'll be a bit of irony... maybe. :o)  
  
**Helen: **I'm glad you liked it! I'll send you an email if I can... my server's about to crap out on me, so it's a bit of an if.  
  
** Lady Malfoy II: **You wouldn't want me to ruin the surprise for you, would you? Trust me, chances are you won't expect a thing.   
  
** Miyuki Yosei: **Thank you! I'm glad you like it so far :o) It'll get a bit darker and stranger as the story progresses.  
  
**Sweetfires: **Aww, thank you! I'm flattered you like it. Here's more... I hope it's to your satisfactory.  
  
**VegaTenshi: **Thank you, I'm glad you liked it! :o)  



	3. United As One

**Supposed Crime, Chapter Three**  
  
It's been an interesting night, and for some reason I've got it in my head that it's Friday, not Thursday. That could be dangerous...  
Aimée  
  
  
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So it wasn't the most romantic of proposals. Did it really matter? I knew if I did in fact become gushy and start professing my undying love for her—which I did not need words to express—she would be wary and wonder if my words were genuine. It wasn't in my character to suggest, rather bluntness was something I thrived on. I have been subtle my entire life before this; now I wanted out of my chains.  
  
She gaped at me for what could have easily been an eternity, her eyes wide with disbelief.   
  
"You don't have to say anything right away," I said quickly, making sure she knew I meant no pressure with my question. "Take as long as you want and need to decide."  
  
She stayed perfectly still for a moment before regaining her wits. She touched my hand gently, a confused look upon her pale flawless face.   
  
"Do you have—" she paused as if unsure of whether she should proceed with that particular line of questioning. With a brief flash of insight, I mentally smacked myself and then opened my closed fist, revealing a small silver ring.  
  
"Even if you reject my proposal, keep it," I insisted as she carefully took the ring from the palm of my hand and placed it on her ring finger—the right one, I noticed, instead of the left.  
  
"It's beautiful," she breathed, her eyes wide with amazement. "Thank you."  
  
"You deserve it," I assured both her and myself quietly.  
  
She was silently examining her ring, a smile playing across her lips. Suddenly, she turned towards me, curiosity evident in her gaze.  
  
"Do you have a house?"  
  
I nodded, only slightly take back by the abrupt question. "I spend most the year here, of course, and I do consider this my home. However, I do have extensive estates in France and Wales, and one outside of London."  
  
She blinked, quite obviously shocked by my answer. "So many for only a few months out of the year?"  
  
"They were inheritances," I explained patiently, amused by her almost childish awe and wonder. "I'm the last member of my family, and therefore I own the entire estate. Don't allow that to influence your decision one way or another, however. I'm not looking for a marriage based off of material possessions."  
  
Hermione slowly nodded in agreement, her pale hands trembling slightly. "Why?"  
  
Her question was not meant for my previous request, rather my initial proposal. It also wasn't intended to sound insulting, nor did I take it as such. It was simple curiosity on her part, and I found myself eager to hear my explanation as well.  
  
"For the first time in my life, I'm able and ready to settle down with someone I love—you. You're in a stage of your life where stability would help more than hinder," I shrugged as I searched for the words I was to say. "I can assure you I would be at your constant disposal, and we could either wait until the end of the next school year for the ceremony or I could give up my position early."  
  
"Or I could stay and study here for a year," she mused, linking her fingers with mine. "I don't know what my answer will be yet, I'm sorry."  
  
"It's perfectly understandable," I assured her, kissing her temple gently. "It's nearly time for breakfast—what do you say we get up and dressed?"  
  
"Breakfast time already?" she asked, a slight panic evident in her voice. "I have to go before Harry finds out I'm missing…"  
She untangled herself from me and rose to dress. I leaned back appreciatively and watched as she did so, knowing she wouldn't mind. Since Mr. Weasley had died, I had found Potter becoming more and more protective of Hermione, sure he was about to lose her as well. In a strange way, I felt sorry for the boy, for I knew what his life would hold for him. He was a hero, yes, but heroes are often only known as just that; he would never truly be thought of as a real person no matter how many people pretended he was, and for him to try and live a life in the real world would almost inevitably end up in disaster.  
  
"I'll see you at graduation," she walked over to the bed and leaned down to kiss me briefly before leaving the room, leaving me alone not only in the bed, but in my mind as well.  
  
  
  
  
  
She and I didn't see one another until the ceremony, where she as Head Girl would be speaking. I looked forward to it with a sort of gentle regret, knowing if things didn't go my way, I would probably never see her again.   
  
As she walked up to the risen stage, one single bright beam of light encircling her, I could sense the pride and nervousness she felt at that very moment. She took in a deep breath and stepped up in view of everyone, and suddenly her strong voice filled the entire Hall.  
  
"For every beginning there is an end, and for every end there is a beginning. This era of our lives has ended, but regret and longing aren't necessary, for an entire new world has opened up to us. This new world holds so many opportunities that I simply cannot even begin to imagine what surprises will be in store for not only me, but the rest of this class. Take advantage of this new world; be brave as you look opportunity in the eye and defeat it, for we have been blessed to live in an Age in which the concentration of magic in our blood does not matter, but the ability in which we are able to perform. It's been a long seven years, and I've enjoyed every single one of them. We've gone through a lot together—a war, an upheaval of the government, and the deaths of some of our dearest friends, family members, and classmates."  
  
I could see a small tear trickle down her cheek as she spoke these words, and I knew she was thinking not only of the friends she had lost, but also all of the people sitting before her that had lost a loved one in the war.  
  
"It has been a trial for us all; our beliefs have been challenged, yet our bravery, knowledge, loyalty, and ambition have stayed with us through it all, and we have won. The war that has torn throughout the wizarding world for so long has finally come to a conclusion, but only with the sacrifice of countless people, both magical and non-magical. One of my best friends was the last killed on our side—Ron Weasley. I both mourn for his loss and exalt in his triumph of being the one to help defeat the Dark Lord, even after overcoming the curse of the mark he was forced to bear while protecting his family. He was an amazing man, and I wish for every single one of you to remember him, just as you'll remember all of those you lost. Take the memory of each victim with you as you venture out into the new world, and know these are the people who are the reason you have the opportunity to be anything you would like to be and to do anything you would like to do with your life.   
  
"For over an eon, wizards and witches just like you and I have stood proudly in this great Hall and basked in the knowledge that they had achieved something as precious as pride on this day. Be proud of who you are and never let anyone put you down simply because they don't agree with you. You are who you are and always defend your person. Stand up for what you believe in, even if it means dying for the cause, just as Ron Weasley did. Love yourself, love your family, love your friends, and love this great world we live in. I have few regrets during the seven years I have spent at this school, and I hope you all have fewer. I have found love in so many different and surprising places, and I feel blessed to have experienced these years with you all. I may not know every single one of you personally, but I hope one day ten years from now I will be able to pass any one of you on the streets of London and greet you not only as an ally and a classmate, but as a friend. Thank you, and congratulations to us all!"  
  
  
  
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**Bella Ireland:** Thank you, I hope this chapter's good enough.  
  
**Gethsemane: **Okay, as long as it's not a bad thing. :o) Yeah, angry, thoughtful, with a huge dallop of longing for what I was going for, but that won't become apparent until certain parts are written. Thanks again :o)  
  
**silmarien: **I'm sorry! More suspense, I know it sucks. :o)  
  
**Sweetfires: **Yeah, Snape's a lot OOC, and yes, you're right with the whole "Free from Voldemort" thing as well. I believe he'd be a completely different person if the threat of Voldie wasn't as real in the series as it is. Well, she hasn't answered him yet, but she should in the next chapter, so all will be revealed then.. and the story will be able to finally really start.  



	4. Seclusion

**Supposed Crime, Chapter Four**  
  
Well, it gets a bit interesting from here on out... It'll all get explanied, don't worry.  
Aimée  
  
  
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I found her sitting out by the lake later that evening, the indigo shade of the night sky silhouetting her body magnificently. The soft moonlight already reflected off of her still form as I approached her silently, but my effort was futile; she turned around the moment I stopped behind her, her facial features serene yet pained all at the same time.  
  
"Severus," she spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. "I've been waiting for you."  
  
"You have?" I asked, looking around once for any others who could possibly see the two of us together and then sat down.   
  
"Well, I've been looking for you."  
  
She smiled faintly, snaking her right hand over touch my left. "It's a beautiful night, isn't it?"  
  
"It is," I agreed, wondering where all of this was going. She wasn't anything like her normal self; her reservations about anything resembling a personal conversation were peculiar, especially considering the fact she was obviously wanting to say something. "Why were you waiting for me?"  
  
She shrugged, turning towards me with a strangely detached expression on her face. "I've made my decision."  
  
My stomach plummeted down to my knees; she didn't have to tell me her answer, I already knew. "You're rejecting my offer."  
  
Hermione sighed, and I caught sight of a single tear running down her cheek. She didn't bother wiping it away, so I reached my hand up gently to do so for her, acutely aware of her regret-filled gaze.  
  
"I have no choice."  
  
I nodded mutely, not trusting myself to speak just then. We were silent for perhaps a minute or two more until I finally shook my head as the realization of the situation set in. It was as if all of the hopes and dreams I had ever had were dashed out with a single stroke. They had been, I realized, with her rejection.   
  
"Please, Severus, don't take it personally," she pleaded, interrupting my train of thought. "I _do _love you, it isn't like I'm doing this for the benefit of us or anything."  
  
"Then why?" I asked, steeling myself against her answer. I was not—_not_—going to allow my feelings to get in the way that night. No matter how important she was to me, she was still—as much as it pained me to say—just a girl, much like a billions of others walking the planet. She was absolute perfection in my eyes, but the rational part of my mind chided me, insisting there had to be hundreds, if not thousands of girls out there exactly like her.  
  
"I'm going to lose Harry," she responded softly, her voice barely above a whisper. There was a sort of desperate longing evident in her tone, one I had only heard from her lips when Potter was the subject of discussion. "Ever since Ron died, he's been slipping further and further away from me. I can't let him get away, Severus, I'm sure you realize that. He's my best friend, and to—as much as I hate to say it—preoccupy myself with you at this point, no matter how much I love you, would absolutely kill him. If I was to marry you, I would be forced to tell him, and I don't think he could handle finding out I've been lying to him for so long."  
  
_Female logic._ "I understand," I murmured, gazing out over the moonlit water towards the looming mountains around us.  
  
"So many people call him the Boy Who Lived," she said softly. "They all think he's invincible, but I know he isn't—he's the most vulnerable person I've ever known in my life." She smiled ironically. "He hates the name, you know. The night where so many rejoiced was a night that completely and utterly destroyed his life; it took away his family, and he was denied anything even remotely resembling love for so long… I need to be there for him, he needs his best friend right now. Ron's gone, Voldemort's defeated, and he has absolutely no idea what to do with his life."  
  
What about me? My own life—of which I had devoted over twenty years to being one of the key spies for Dumbledore, risking my life with each breath I took—was being determined by Potter's own self-pity. I had been selfless my entire life, and for once—just once—I wanted to cry out in a childish manner and state in no uncertain terms exactly how unfair I found the whole ordeal to be. For Hermione's sake, however, I kept my mouth shut.  
  
"He's done enough for Hogwarts to last him a lifetime," I said, pushing my grief and feelings of unfairness into the recesses of my mind. "Hopefully he will realize it is time to share his gifts with the rest of the world now."  
  
She nodded, her eyes growing distant for a time before she finally turned towards me, and I noticed a fresh trail of tears leading down her cheeks. "I have to go now."  
  
I nodded solemnly as I stood up, offering my hand to her. She took it gratefully and pulled herself up, wiping away the tears with the back of her hand. "May I still owl you ever so often?" she asked.  
  
"I would be extremely disappointed if you didn't," I admitted. She smiled sadly and paused, and with a sudden movement, leaned in and pressed her lips against mine for what was to be the last time for half a decade.  
  
"Goodbye, Severus," she whispered, giving me one last look before turning away. "I love you."  
  
All I could do was simply stare at her retreating figure, hollowness as I had never experienced filling me to the very soul of my being. I don't know how long I stood there and I don't remember walking back to my rooms that night; all I could remember was the feeling of her soft lips pressed against mine for what I was sure to be the last time.  
  
Three weeks later, she became Hermione Granger-Potter.  
  
  
  
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**Anakah: **I take it you liked that last sentence, eh? :o) Nah... you'll see what happens.  
  
**Fire: **Sorry... =Þ  
  
**lip: **I'm glad you like it. :o) Thanks.  
  
**Megan: **I know it's dry, it's supposed to be dryish... gotta get it set up somehow! :o)  



	5. Holy Light

**Supposed Crime, Chapter Five  
**  
  
All right, it's definitely not a week's worth of writing. I've been... lazy? I guess busy doesn't work, although I am sore from paintball yesterday. And slightly injured. Damn heat. This is more of an interlude than a chapter, to be honest--a trasition, if you will. I got a job, too. Is that a good thing? Hmm...   
Aimée  
  
  
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For four years, I stayed within the familiar walls of Hogwarts. With each setting of the sun and rising of the moon, I loathed myself more and more. I spent nearly two years of my life unable to look into a mirror, telling myself there was no point. The woman I loved—admittedly not the first, but most certainly the last—had pushed me aside for a self-centered sniveling egotistical brat of a boy. From the moment I had read of their marriage—in the Daily Prophet, no less—I vowed I would never allow another female to betray me as both Hermione and the one before her had. No matter how beautiful she was, no matter ho trusting or intelligent, I promised myself I would never allow myself hurt in the form of a woman again.  
  
Both of these women had claimed to love me, and both had uttered those heart-wrenching words within the walls of Hogwarts. Irrationally, I shifted the blame to the very stones which had sheltered me for nearly three decades of my life, and on the fourth anniversary of Hermione's refusal, I resigned from the position of Potions Master.  
  
Albus Dumbledore was a man of many talents, one of which was being able to see directly into the heart of any problem or situation. Within six hours of my resignation, he approached me with an offer from the very people whom, not even five years before, had wanted me dead.  
  
The Ministry of Magic.  
  
The Minister himself, Arthur Weasley, had offered the position of Head of the Department of the general field of Potions to me, much to my astonishment. Without any official time of working for the Ministry, I had been offered one of the most respected and unobtainable positions within the magical government, no doubt beating dozens of equally qualified wizards and witches in the process.   
  
It took Albus hours to assure me I was the best of the best in the field, despite my protests that I hadn't even reached the age of fifty and could in no way have to most knowledge and experience in the magical community.  
  
"Severus," he had said in a gentle yet firm tone of voice, "you are the only wizard I have ever met who has the power and knowledge to destroy the world and put it back together, piece my piece, with a simple cauldron, yet has the loyalty to the free world to never consider using it even under the most desperate of circumstance. You hold the combined knowledge of not only seven years as a student, over twenty as a professor, and five as a servant of Voldemort. None of the hundreds of people in the Department you have been offered can claim even a fraction of your experience."   
  
He sighed and set one gnarled hand upon my shoulder in what was meant to be a fatherly gesture. "You have been given the chance of a lifetime, dear boy. For the love of all you hold holy, take it."  
  
And so I took it.  
  
  
  
  
  
I spent the next several days improving vainly upon the appearance I had ignored for so long. With a series of spells, potions, and hours of work, I succeeded in bringing back the natural whiteness of my teeth, the healthy shine of my now shoulder length hair, and the stance which had once made me formidable an enemy.  
  
My apparent vanity was only indulged in due to my realization I would no longer be able to hide in the chambers of the dark, damp dungeons any more.  
  
Four years after my emotional world had crumbled and taken refuge in the recesses of my mind, I stepped into the bright Ministry building, and for the first time in my life, I wasn't stepping within those walls in handcuffs and chains.  
  
So began what could have been the hundredth, yet most difficult, challenging, and rewarding, era in my life.  
  
  
  
---  
  
**Amy-Anka: **O wow, thank you tons! I'm glad you like it so far :o)   
  
**Aqua Child:** So true... some characters just need a hug, and damn reality for not placing that within the realm of posibilities!  
  
**Debbi: **Of course it wasn't the last chapter. Things happen, but I can basically guarentee (guarantee? I'm too lazy to check) you that this will definitely not be the typical Snape/Hermione story. In true LLOA form, I'm gonna twist the plot around until it's insideout and backwards. And yes, I'm nutters. :o)  
  
**eiknlng: **I'm sorry? Aye, they shouldn't be married. It just isn't right. *shrug* Hopefully it'll all work out in the end... but there's something that hasn't been put into play yet--quite a few things, actually. You'll see, of course :o) You know, I've never asked you... what does your penname mean/stand for?  
  
**Grammar Queen:** Thank you! I'm sorry I upset you, things should get better though.  
  
** Herpesisforever Queen: **Can't kill me now, can you? I wrote more. Yeah, I agree; Harry's cool and all, but Snape's better. You'll see what happens... I won't say a word, but I actually do know (for once in my pathetic writing 'career', if one dares to call it such) what's going to happen. And, for the record, I didn't do that to Snape--Hermione did. Do you know a guy named Kerry?  
  
**manic: **You think pity marriages are a good thing? And who says it was a pity marriage? :o) Yes, it's cruel, but life's cruel, unfortunately.  
  
**Unstable: **Thanks, Jen! Yeah, definitely poor Sev this time around...  
  
_  
__Has anyone figured out what song the story's more or less based off of yet?_  



	6. Never A Dull Moment

**Supposed Crime**  
  
---  
  
Eh, all right, Megan's at Marching Band Camp or something like that and even though she wrote the next chapter to Your Holy Dark (the third one's written already, which is the one I wrote), I got antsy and decided to add on to Supposed Crime. If you haven't already, check out the prequel to this story--Your Holy Dark. It's under this pen name (LanaMariah).   
Thanks,  
Aimée  
  
---  
  
_Floor 36th, Hallway 24, Room 1022._  
  
How the _bloody hell_ was I ever going to figure out where that particular corner was?  
  
As I wandered the 36th floor of the Ministry, I noticed quite a few things; first of all, not a single soul seemed to be occupied in anything except for Potions. There were doctors carefully measuring beakers full of smoking liquids, interns holding glad vials in their shaking hands as they made their way down the maze of hallways as quickly as humanly possible without failing at their task and allowing the vials to drop, and witches and wizards attending bubbling cauldrons.   
  
_These _were my students now.  
  
With a smile that didn't reach my eyes, I wondered exactly how many of those running around on this particular floor I had taught in the years before. Surely anyone under the age of forty had once been subjected to my harsh and cruel manner—something I wasn't willing to give up quite yet.  
  
"Severus Snape?"  
  
I was jolted out of my thoughts as a gray-haired witch with an extraordinary amount of wrinkles stepped in front of me, her black eyes squinting up at me through thick horn-rimmed glasses.  
  
"Yes?" I asked coldly, slightly offended in her bored tone.  
  
"Your office is this way—follow me," the witch croaked, waving her right hand in a way that told me to follow her limping strides.  
  
Soon she led me to a rather spacious office, complete with no less than five places for various cauldrons and experiments to sit, along with a long oak desk and a high-backed chair—and a window looking out into the streets of London below.  
  
It had been years since any room of mine had had a window as grand as the one set before me.  
  
"After you have become acquainted with the staff on your floor, you shall be allowed to choose one as a personal assistant, if he or she agrees. If you wish to change any rules or regulations, you must first gain approval from the Ministry Board, and then you shall be required to give the staff a five-business-days notice." The old witch sniffed and glanced up at me once more, her gaze heavy and harsh. "Your secretary is right outside your doors. Do you have any questions?"  
  
"No," I said equally as harsh. "You are excused."  
  
With a glare shot my way, the old witch hobbled out of the room, clutching a clipboard in her old gnarled hands. After she had closed the heavy double doors leading into my office, I breathed a sigh of relief and immediately went to sit down in my glorious leather high-backed chair, admiring my office.  
  
The novelty of the situation wore off rather quickly, and in an attempt to gain some of the luster back, I set off to enjoy the hustle and bustle of the laboratory.  
  
It took me only a minute to find the large, warm room, in which no less than thirty long counters ran the length of the room, with a five-foot aisle cut down the middle. Seated at each section of the room was a witch or wizard—admittedly, mostly wizards—in a long white coat, distinguishing them from the rest of the floor and Ministry.  
  
Slowly, I made my way around the room, surveying the various experiments that were being done. I was blown away by the level of Excellency of my crew; I could find nary a single thing wrong. However, as I stepped in the third-to-last row, I noticed the potion was omitting a surprising number of bubbles—an amount that was no doubt fatal to the potion.  
  
"You may think about adding a pinch or two of munkswood root to your potion, if you're bent on saving it." My tone was neither harsh nor helpful, rather it took on a placid wave of indifference.  
  
"Always the teacher, eh Professor?" the witch at the table smirked, nevertheless following my suggestion.  
  
I took a good look at the face in front of me with the knowledge I should know who the once-student was sitting in front of me. However, after a searching gaze over her tan skin and dark features, I drew a blank.  
  
"You don't recognize me, do you?" Her voice was strong, but laced with hurt she obviously wanted to stay hidden.   
  
I shook my head, giving her a slightly apologetic shrug. "I've taught thousands of students in my lifetime, Miss. I'm afraid I can't remember each and every one of them."  
  
She grinned, showing off a mouthful of bright white teeth. "Do you sleep with so many of them that you can't even remember a face you once woke up to—_multiple mornings in a row_?"  
  
I leaned forward slightly in astonishment, the pit of my stomach suddenly turning to ice. After a moment of silent comparison, I suddenly made the connection I had failed to see before.  
  
Despite the now-magically straightened hair and the fuller form, along with higher cheekbones and an adult face, I was able to see subtle similarities—only subtle, mind you—between the girl I once taught and the woman standing before me.  
  
_"Hermione_?"  
  
---  
  
  



End file.
